Mozart’s great choral opera: Idomeneo Teatro Comunale di Bologna 2010 Photo: Rocco Casaluci 1781 Idomeneo Teatro Comunale di Bologna 2010 Photo: Rocco Casaluci In 1780, a commission from Munich finally arrived: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was to compose an opera seria, the story of the king of Crete: “Idomeneo”. Colloredo granted him six weeks' leave. After three days on the stage coach, Mozart finally arrived in Munich. Here, optimal working conditions awaited him: his beloved Mannheim orchestra and the world famous ensemble of singers of the Elector of Pfalz, Karl Theodor, were at his disposal. He had already collaborated with the theatre director Joseph Count Seeau in Munich during the production of “La Finta Giardiniera” . The libretto was based on the tragedy “Idoménée” by Antoine Danchet. It was reworked into Italian for Mozart’s opera by the court chaplain Varesco of Salzburg. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart exerted great influence over the libretto.

He was determined to break old rules and to create something completely new and exciting. Working with Varesco could not have been unproblematic… Of gods and men … “Idomeneo” by Mozart is based on material from ancient antiquity and tells the story of the king of Crete, Idomeneus. During his return from the Trojan War he gets into distress at sea. To survive, he vows to the god of oceans, Poseidon, to sacrifice the first man he encounters after his rescue. His son Idamante is romantically involved with Ilia, a Trojan prisoner of war, and wants to marry her. But Elektra covets the prince as well. When Idamante learns of the disaster that struck his father’s fleet, he is convinced that Idomeneo is dead. Idamante stands grieving at the beach when his father’s ship lands. He is overjoyed to see his father alive. However, Idomeneo is struck by terror: his son is the first human being he encounters on dry land. Is it possible to disappoint a god? Mozart’s Idomeneo wants to save the life of his son at all costs.

He sends him away to Elektra’s home country, in the company of Elektra herself. But Poseidon will not be deceived. A terrible storm destroys Idamante’s ship and a sea monster appears to claim the prince’s life. Before Idamante sets out to challenge the sea monster, he and Ilia confess their love for one another. Facing the threat of the sea monster, Idomeneo is forced to divulge which sacrifice the monster demands: his son. A human sacrifice is prepared at the temple of Poseidon. Idomeneo himself shall kill his son. In despair, Ilia interposes herself between the men. Finally, the voice of the oracle declares that Idamante can stay alive if Idomeneo abdicates and makes Ilia queen. Mozart’s opera – a treasure trove of recitatives, effects, choir and ballet scenes Mozart’s “Idomeneo” is a lyrical tragedy and is considered Mozart’s greatest choral opera. It is composed in the baroque tradition of the opera seria; however, Mozart excels at giving it new traits and forms.

He also exerted his influence on the dramaturgy, shortened parts to increase their effect, increased the suspense with a dense use of instruments and wrote the marvellous ballet music. The premiere in Munich in 1781 at the Residenz Theatre was a great success. Mozart stayed three months instead of six weeks and enjoyed the carnival season to the full. He felt no urge to return to Salzburg… Idomeneo — PINCHGUT OPERA [ Open All | Close All ] 1] Kings, Heroes and Citizens The most painful and difficult employment in the world, in my opinion, is worthily to discharge the office of a king. I excuse more of their mistakes than men commonly do, in consideration of the intolerable weight of their function, which astounds me.(1) Mozart was 24 years old when in 1780 he was commissioned by the Elector Karl Theodor of Bavaria to write an opera for the court in Munich. Karl Theodor had been, until shortly before, the Prince Palatine and ruler of Mannheim in the Rhineland.

Although he made himself rather unpopular in Munich by spending much of his reign in Bavaria trying to swap parts of his lands for a crown in the Netherlands, he nevertheless made great contributions to the town planning and architecture of Munich, and he was a great patron of the arts. Idomeneo premiered the following year, 1781, at the Cuvilliés Theatre in Munich, and was warmly received, the Elector himself commenting: ʻNo music has ever made such an impression on me. It is magnificent.ʼ Nevertheless, because the opera is a serious opera, unlike any of his mature works except the equally neglected La clemenza di Tito, it has a form and idiom very different from the operas on which Mozartʼs reputation rests today. Idomeneo is a work that for many years has been regarded as a relict, an opera seria carried over into a world whose circumstances were no longer those which had caused the genre to come into being, like a wool clipper plying the Cape of Good Hope in an age when steam freighters took the Suez Canal. In much the same way, it has been treated with a certain sentimental respect – the respect due to an excellently constructed and presented throwback.

Nevertheless, it has been regarded as somehow qualitatively belonging to a different age. Certainly it seems to inhabit a different world from that of the da Ponte operas, or even that of its immediate successor, The Abduction from the Seraglio. There are certain distinctive features to it which would certainly give that initial impression. The combination of a classical Greek setting, the serious subject matter, the supernatural influences, and the characters torn between love and duty sets it apart from anything else in Mozartʼs output. At first sight, these elements also look like the stuff of the traditional opera seria, an entertainment conceived in Italy and enjoying the support of the nobility from London to Budapest. Idomeneo does indeed inhabit a different world, but it is not the world of the Italian opera seria. Thematically, Idomeneo is an opera which is a standard bearer for the Enlightenment. Mozartʼs later operas, particularly The Marriage of Figaro and The Magic Flute, are recognised as definitive statements in the cultural history of that movement, but the more traditional form of Idomeneo has militated against its being considered in the same category.

Idomeneo also departs from opera seria in its structure, owing far more to the French tragédie lyrique. For a start, its libretto was inspired by that for the French opera Idoménée, written by André Campra and premiered in 1712 in the final years of the reign of Louis XIV. It is highly probable that the Elector was familiar with Campraʼs opera and was taken with the subject matter, and, as was not unusual with commissions, that he chose Mozartʼs subject matter. With more decisiveness than insight, he handed the job of translating and adapting the libretto over to his court chaplain Varesco, someone who was not conversant either with singers or the demands of the lyric stage. The irony of this is that it meant that Mozart had a profound involvement in the shaping of the libretto, as he was very unsatisfied with Varescoʼs contribution. We also, unusually, have a comprehensive record of this, as much of their collaboration was carried out by correspondence, with Leopold Mozart acting as an intermediary. The fact that the origins of the drama come from the French is significant.

Nor should it be doubted that the origins are French rather than classically Greek – the figure of Idomeneus, the king of Crete, is mentioned several times in the Iliad, in dispatches, as it were, but beyond that there is no canonical information. He could not be called a great Greek mythical figure – no Achilles, still less an Orpheus, around whom a body of ready-made myth has accumulated. Ciphers such as Idomeneus nevertheless have their purposes. They arbitrarily attract themes which a society needs to explore, and the figure of Idomeneus attracted a particularly interesting one. Like Jephtha in the Bible, Idomeneus makes a promise to a god that upon his deliverance he will offer up the first living being he sees as a sacrifice. As with Jephtha, fate dictates that the being is his offspring – his son Idamante as opposed to Jephthaʼs daughter – and he is faced with a terrible choice of being oath-breaker or filicide. Moral dilemmas of this sort, which in the works of Racine or Corneille are induced by a sequence of conventionally honourable intentions and individually laudable actions, are a feature of French drama.

Conventionally, the principal characters look for a way to reconcile their conflicting duties, often finding themselves unable to do so without divine intervention, the deus ex machina which can resolve the irresolvable. Again, Idomeneo appears at first sight to correspond to this format – but even here it has surprises in store. Idomeneoʼs intentions are conventionally honourable in the sense understood by the French, but the purpose of articulating them is not to explore the extent of his honour, but to question the conventions. His actions are individually laudable, perhaps, but socially questionable, and it is his social self which is critiqued by them, not his individual self. The notion that a monarch should have a social self which is distinct from an individual self is in itself radical. The saying attributed to Louis XIV, ʻLʼétat, cʼest moiʼ (I am the state), is almost certainly apocryphal, but it does neatly express the unity of the monarchʼs social and individual self. The opera Idomeneo expresses a very different idea of kingship and divine order.

In the traditional tragédie lyrique, monarchy was depicted in the role of the deus ex machina: the god of deliverance is by convention a thinly disguised avatar of the monarch. The king attains a truly divine status (albeit by proxy). It is a convenient dramatic device, and it goes hand in glove with an unassailable belief in the divine right of kings, because it presupposes a variety of ultimate benevolence and purpose to the universe which, once admitted, must embrace a divine hierarchy. Idomeneo is not himself this sort of monarch, nor is the deity of the opera a depiction of one. Idomeneoʼs god inhabits a universe where power is unhitched from benevolence or greater purpose. In fact, both Idomeneo and his god are throwbacks to the Homeric tradition, in which gods and heroes are answerable only to their own quest for glory and power.

The purpose of the opera is to show that these gods and these heroes are not what it takes to rule a happy and prosperous state – that civic virtues and Homeric virtues are incompatible and that if the Idomeneoʼs god is proxy for a monarch, then it is a monarch engaged in the blatant exercise of self-bolstering authority at the expense of his subjects. We are not to pray that all things may go as we would have them, but as most concurrent with prudence.(2) Idomeneo is not thereby exonerated. Mozart would have been very aware of the Enlightenment view that to invoke a god for oneʼs own purpose is blasphemous. That is to say, if God in his wisdom has seen fit to inflict misfortune upon you, it is incumbent upon you to accept that misfortune as being part of the purpose of the higher power. Idomeneo does not accept his misfortune, but tries to bargain. Furthermore, he responds to an unjust god with an unjust promise. Idomeneo has promised something which does not belong to him – another personʼs life.

Having made an oath which he realises belatedly is invidious, he tries to find a way out of it. The result of that is an ʻunnaturalʼ sequence of events – he must repudiate his son, deceive his people, permit suffering, and ultimately accept the prospect of sacrificing his son, and his own and everyone elseʼs happiness. In short, he must deny all of those duties which the civically-minded monarch would consider to be the sine qua non of kingship. The opera shows that the very human impulse of trying to find a way out of his dilemma is, in this circumstance, not a very royal one. In other words, in behaving like a father he is refusing to behave like a monarch, and vice versa. This is the sort of quandary beloved of the French tragedy – but the parameters of this quandary are very new territory. The notion that the lives of a kingʼs subject were not his personal property is in itself a quite extraordinary ideological development and certainly does not belong to classical Greece or even Louis XIVʼs France. Instead it is very tightly connected to ideas of the rights of man, equality before God, and the social contract which binds even the king.

A king bound by a social contract is only as good as his word, and it is here that Idomeneoʼs situation becomes particularly pitiable. For it is by his word – his oath to Neptune – that he has caused the catastrophic situation in the first place. The suffering of the people of Crete under the ravages of an irate Neptune makes Idomeneoʼs obligations very clear to him – by being their king he is responsible for the welfare of the many, no matter what it may cost him personally. This is based very firmly on an Enlightened view of the nature of his monarchy – Homeric virtues are no longer valued in this world. Civic virtues are what the state needs. The profound social responsibilities of kingship are thrown into relief by the characters of Ilia, the Trojan princess, and the Greek princess Elettra. Both Ilia and Elettra are themselves royalty, but have been forcibly absolved of their royal and personal responsibilities. Ilia, as she articulates in her opening aria, has lost her family, her home and her position. Elettra is a refugee from the domestic catastrophe which emerged from the return of her father Agamemnon and his subsequent murder.

Elettra – Electra – is as an audience familiar with Greek dramas would know her, but the surprise is that she is the nearest that the opera comes to a villain. She is a character out of place in an Enlightened age – refusing to moderate herself or act out of consideration for others, and not embracing a social role. Instead, she expects society to adapt itself to her, and when it does not, she seeks to absent herself from it. By contrast, Ilia, the ʻenemyʼ captive, refuses to put her own desires before the state necessities which drive her lover Idamante. Furthermore, she seeks to integrate herself into her new society – seeking a new family and home in Crete. In doing so she has acknowledged the significance of those social ties and displayed an awareness that nobility is earned by comportment and not simply by blood. All of the characters end up revolving around Idamante, the intended sacrificial victim, the lover of Ilia, the unrequiting beloved of Elettra, the king-in-waiting.

By trying to defend Crete from the monster sent by Neptune, and then by accepting that the needs of the people supersede those of any individual, he proves himself worthy where his father has failed. When Neptune decrees Idomeneoʼs abdication and Idamanteʼs accession, it is a vindication of selfless and enlightened monarchy, and of a monarch who seeks to resolve ancient hatreds by marrying a Trojan princess. The events of the opera mark the passing of the age of Homeric heroes like Idomeneus and Electra, who are individuals who put their own interests first, and the dawn of a civic age of Idamante and Ilia, who understand that leadership is first and foremost about unity and responsibility. When Idomeneo is regarded in this light, itʼs very easy to see that the Mozart who wrote it was very much the same Mozart who would go on to write operas extolling the virtues of forgiveness (in The Abduction from the Seraglio), integrity (The Marriage of Figaro), self-discipline (Don Giovanni), selfknowledge (Così fan tutte), wisdom (The Magic Flute) and clemency (La clemenza di Tito).

Mozart was nothing if not a man with an agenda – but what makes this aspect of his output so palatable is that his was the most enlightened, humane and positive of agendas. The music adds a dignity and emotional clarity which make it hard to resist, even if we wanted to. © Antony Ernst 2006 Idomeneo Synopsis - The Story of Mozart's Opera, Idomeneo Idomeneo Synopsis Premiered: January 29, 1781 - Cuvilliés Theatre, Munich Palace Other Popular Opera Synopses: Mozart's Idomeneo takes place in Greece after the Trojan War. The Story of Idomeneo Idomeneo, ACT 1 After the Trojan King Priam's defeat, his daughter Ilia was captured and taken back to Crete. While being held captive, Ilia fell in love with King Idomeneo's son, Prince Idamante, but she hesitates to bring her secret into light. In an attempt to gain her love, Prince Idamante orders the freeing of the Trojan prisoners. Sadly, Ilia coldly rejects his goodwill. He argues that it is not his fault their fathers were at war with one another.

When Elettra, Princess of Argos, finds out what has happened, she protests this new idea of peace between Crete and Troy. Though really, her anger stems from jealousy of Ilia. continue reading below our video Best Vacation Reads of 2015 Suddenly, the king's confidant, Arbace, bursts into the room with news that King Idomeneo has been lost at sea. Instantly, Elettra is worried that Ilia, a Trojan, will soon be Queen of Crete due to Idamante's love of her. Meanwhile, King Idomeneo's life has been spared thanks to the intervening of the god, Neptune. Having been washed to shore on a beach on Crete, King Idomeneo recalls the deal he made with Neptune. Should his life be saved, Idomeneo must kill the first living creature he meets and offer it as a sacrifice to Neptune. Just then, Idamante stumbles across the man. Idamante hasn't seen his father since he was a small child, so neither of them are quick to recognize each other. When Idomeneo finally makes the connection, he tells Idamante to leave without ever seeking him again.

Upset at what appears to be his father's rejection, Idamante runs away. The men aboard Idomeneo's ship are happy to be alive. As their wives meet them on the beach, they praise Neptune. Idomeneo, ACT 2 King Idomeneo returns to his palace and speaks with Arbace for advice. After describing his circumstances, Arbace tells him that it would be possible to substitute Idamante's sacrifice for another should Idamante be sent into exile. Idomeneo thinks it over and orders his son to escort Elettra back to her home in Greece. Later, Ilia meets with King Idomeneo and is moved by his kindness. She tells him that since she has lost everything in her homeland, she will make a new life for herself with King Idomeneo as her father and Crete will be her new home. When King Idomeneo thinks of his past decisions, he realizes that Ilia will never be happy, especially now that he has sent Prince Idamante away in exile. He is tormented by his foolish deal with Neptune.

Meanwhile, on the ship nearly ready to depart for Argos, Elettra confesses her love for Idamante and her hope of starting a new life with him. Before their ship departs at the port of Sidon, Idomeneo arrives to say goodbye to his son. He tells him he must learn how to rule while away in exile. As the ship's crew begins to prepare for departure, the sky turns black and a frightening storm unleashes its great power. Amongst the waves, a large serpent approaches the king. Idomeneo knows the serpent as Neptune's messenger and offers his own life to the god, admitting his fault for breaking their deal. Idomeneo, ACT 3 Ilia strolls through the palatial gardens, and thinking of Idamante, whispers to the gentle breeze to carry her thoughts of love to him. Just then, Idamante arrives with news that a great serpent of the sea is destroying the villages along the coast. After telling her he must fight it, he says he'd rather die than to experience the suffering of having his love never reciprocated. Without hesitation, Ilia finally confesses that she has loved him for quite some time.

Before the young lovers can comprehend this special moment, they are interrupted by King Idomeneo and Princess Elettra. Idamante asks his father why he must be sent away, but King Idomeneo does not reveal his true reasons. The king, again, sternly sends his son away. Ilia seeks consolation from Elettra, but Elettra's heart is brewing with jealousy and revenge. Arbace enters the garden and tells King Idomeneo that the High Priest of Neptune and his followers demand to speak with him. When confronted by the High Priest, King Idomeneo must confess the name of the person who must be sacrificed. The High Priest reminds King Idomeneo that the serpent will continue to devour the land until the sacrifice has been made. Reluctantly, he tells the Priest and the followers that the sacrifice is his own son, Idamante. When Idamante's name leaves the mouth of the king, everyone is shocked. The King, High Priest, and more of Neptune's priests gather at the temple to pray for Neptune's appeasing. As they pray, Arbace, the faithful deliverer of news, arrives to announce Idamante's victory for defeating the serpent.

Now plagued with worry, King Idomeneo wonders how Neptune will react. Moments later, Idamante arrives dressed in sacrificial gowns, and explains to his father that he now understands. Ready to die, he tells his father goodbye. Just as Idomeneo is about to take the life of his son, Ilia rushes in shouting that she will offer her own life in place of Idamante's. Coming from no specific source, Neptune's voice is heard. He is pleased with Idamante's and Ilia's devotion. He orders that the young lovers be appointed the new rulers of Crete. With such a wonderful turn of events, the people let out a sigh of relief, except for Elettra, who now wishes for her own death. King Idomeneo ushers Idamante and Ilia to the throne and presents them as husband and wife. They call upon the god of love to bless their union and bring peace to the land.

Mozart Operas: 10 Of The Best - Classic FM Classic FM Recently Added Mozart Guides Now Playing Schedule Mozart Operas: 10 Of The Best When the Canadian pianist Glenn Gould pronounced that Mozart ‘was a bad composer who died too late rather than too early’, he did so at a time when the great man was worshipped with almost holy reverence. More recent efforts to separate the Mozart myth from reality have, if anything, underlined the genius of a creative artist who understood humanity in its infinite variety and was able to translate that understanding into music of profound invention. His finest stage works stand comparison to those of Shakespeare. He crafted new vocal pieces with specific singers in mind, accepting their strengths and weaknesses as significant shaping forces in the act of composition. Mozart assimilated the essence of the existing models of music for stage and church, and raised them to new heights of inspiration. His early Italian operas and pieces for the German-speaking theatre rarely challenge existing conventions, but they set the ground for the mould-breaking works of his later years. Likewise, his Salzburg masses paved the way for the great sacred pieces of his Vienna years, the C minor Mass and Requiem among them.

In 1780, Mozart was asked to write a serious opera for the Munich court, a huge boost for an ambitious composer saddled with the duties of cathedral organist in Salzburg. Idomeneo only emerged during the scheduled rehearsal period. Mozart worked wonders with a duff libretto, editing it into dramatic shape and stepping beyond the bounds of Italian opera seria to explore aspects of character and emotional extremes. Five years later, the composer revolutionised Italian comic opera with The Marriage of Figaro, his first collaboration with a great librettist, Lorenzo da Ponte. The plot’s wild doings are balanced against a score of great formal balance and musical logic, allowing Mozart to span everything from the absurd to the sublime in music that perfectly complements da Ponte’s onstage business. Two further da Ponte operas, and final masterpieces The Magic Flute and The Requiem contain everything necessary to contradict Glenn Gould’s perverse judgement on Mozart. Idomeneo Although Mozart complained of problems with Idomeneo’s first cast (describing the ageing Anton Raaff as being ‘like a statue’ in the title role), he created a breakthrough work.

Loosening the strict formal conventions of opera seria, he reaches deep into the emotions of his mythical characters. Period instruments and wholehearted choral singing add bite to John Eliot Gardiner’s intense, characterful recording. DG 431 6742 Don Giovanni Da Ponte’s playboy exploits were ideal qualifications for his retelling of the yarn of Don Juan. Morally ambivalent, the opera presents the philandering nobleman of the title as both villain and hero. But in the end, he descends to hell while the remaining cast of cowards, rape victims and the violently bereaved live happily ever after. Carlo Maria Giulini’s classic 1959 recording features premier-league singing and revelatory conducting. EMI Classics 567 8692 Così fan Tutte Two soldiers, Ferrando and Guglielmo, bet that their girlfriends will always be faithful; philosopher Don Alfonso persuades them he can prove otherwise. So, in ridiculous disguises, the military men seek to trick Fiordiligi and Dorabella.

Mozart explores the sincerity and hypocrisy of human relationships in his third and final da Ponte opera, the results of which are interpreted with unrestrained delight by Georg Solti, Renée Fleming and co. Decca 444 1742 Die Entführung aus dem Serail Some 99 years after the defeat of the Ottoman army at Vienna’s gates, Mozart composed a singspiel using the by now amusing stock characters of the Turkish pasha, his courtiers and harem. It was Die Entführung that inspired Emperor Joseph II’s alleged remark: ‘Too many notes, my dear Mozart.’ His opinion might have been different had he heard Charles Mackerras’s inspired reading of Mozart’s score. Telarc CD-80544 Mass in C Minor, K427 (K417a) As with his Requiem, Mozart never finished the longest of his 18 Latin Mass settings. The C minor Mass, first performed in Salzburg in October 1783, reflects Mozart’s discovery and assimilation of music by Bach, introducing ‘operatic’ arias into the rich musical mix.

Nikolaus Harnoncourt spotlights the work’s arresting clash of old and new musical cultures in a compelling performance. Warner Classics 2564 62337-2 The Marriage of Figaro For many, this is the greatest opera ever written. The 29-year-old Mozart struck gold here, setting da Ponte’s words to music of profound humanity. Based on Beaumarchais’s play, the opera uses comedy and pathos to highlight aristocratic power, a hot topic on the eve of the French Revolution. René Jacobs conjures up a gripping performance, with spot-on casting and great sound. Harmonia Mundi HMC 901818.20 Ave Verum Corpus, K618 This short motet, exquisitely tender and unashamedly devout, was written in June 1791 during a visit to the spa at Baden, near Vienna, where Constanze was ‘taking the cure’. Anton Stoll, Baden’s choirmaster and a close friend of the Mozarts, asked the composer to provide a short piece for the Sunday following the feast of Corpus Christi.

Rich singing from the Leipzig Radio Choir and effortless phrasing distinguish Peter Schreier’s recording. Philips Classics 464 7202 Idomeneo; Equal Voices – review | Music | The Guardian The Observer Idomeneo; Equal Voices – review Martin Kušej’s new Idomeneo caused a storm. And the premiere of Sally Beamish’s ambitious Equal Voices impressed ‘The curtain fell and the boos rose’: Idomeneo at the Royal Opera House. Photograph: Tristram Kenton Saturday 8 November 2014 19.09 EST Last modified on Saturday 8 November 2014 19.13 EST Share on Messenger Close To start at the end, Mozart’s Idomeneo concludes with a ballet, sometimes omitted but containing exuberant, urgent music which quickens the pulse and dumbfounds the senses. It provided a powerful finale, expertly choreographed but without a step of dance, to the Royal Opera’s new staging of Mozart’s first mature masterpiece. In those closing moments last Monday evening, much fell into place, not a minute too soon.

Marc Minkowski , conducting, found the taut, energetic form which had too often eluded him, now rapid, now sluggish, in the preceding four hours. The set, a stark revolve which folded in and out and resembled an unfinished Greek hotel, came into its own, turning slowly to allow several nimbly executed transformations. Children, pristine in white, petrify into cobwebby, silvered age. The Greek-Trojan lovers Idamante and Ilia, united in uneasy marriage, appear more blood-spattered at each slow spin. The old tyrannies gone, a new era is ushered in with all its hopes and anxieties. The message is clear. Then the curtain fell and the boos rose, loud, low bellows, insolent, rude and dismissive. They were reserved for director Martin Kušej and his Austro-German production team, making their UK debut. Was this the famous if peculiar British reserve, they must have wondered as they took a hasty bow. Director’s opera, or regietheater, is sometimes only graspable after the event – if at all, some might say.

Having been baffled and irritated during the performance, the imagery and insights, and the music above all, are still hanging around in my head and won’t leave. Something was right. Kušej, to whose name “edgy” sticks like a burr, has featured Abu Ghraib and Josef Fritzl’s incarcerated children in previous productions . His work has been seen internationally, especially in Munich, but never here before. There was no chance that this Idomeneo would reside in a world of gods and sea monsters. Kušej instead provides a floppy shark dribbling blood, and some hand-held fish for the chorus to waggle. Despite this, Kušej’s overarching aim could scarcely be more serious. The hints were there, plain and bald, in the programme: photos of the Vietnam war, hurricanes Katrina and Sandy, general devastation provoked by mankind’s greed. Idomeneo, the ruthless king of Crete, is seen hiding behind the useful excuse of fate. Saved from a shipwreck, he must sacrifice the first person he meets. When that person turns out to be his son, ruling with liberal generosity in his father’s absence, motives curdle, expediency and love become bloodily entangled.

Pinterest ‘An exciting debut’: Stanislas de Barbeyrac as Arbace. Photograph: Tristram Kenton Mozart wrote Idomeneo in 1780 when he was in his early 20s. He took inspiration from Gluck’s opera reforms: in short, more ensembles and choruses, greater continuity and flow. The result was some of Mozart’s most majestic operatic music, with a spectacular Act 3 quartet, tremendous choruses and unusual orchestral writing, especially for woodwind and horns. Mozart was always a friend to those instruments; think of his clarinet concerto and quintet, or his horn concertos. The late Charles Mackerras was a particular advocate of Idomeneo. He helped many of us to revere it. Minkowski was not as convincing, but conjured spirited, vivid playing from the ROH orchestra. If the tempos settle down, all will be well. The singing was mostly excellent. Sophie Bevan , as the Trojan princess Ilia, dominates the opera’s opening and then hardly appears again. Her words were notably clear (not always the case elsewhere), emotions potently expressed, voice warm and pliant.

The Swedish soprano Malin Byström , in black with sexy red gloves and shiny black heels, delivered Elettra’s vengeful arias with magnetic force. Thwarted in her love for Idamante and defender of the old regime, she shares the D minor key in which Don Giovanni is dragged to hell in a later opera. Mozart is always precise in his choice of keys: nothing happens by chance. American tenor Matthew Polenzani negotiated the morally perilous title role with elegance. Idamante, usually a mezzo or tenor, was sung by the Argentinian countertenor Franco Fagioli , who sounded somewhat restricted and warbly. Stanislas de Barbeyrac made an exciting ROH debut as Arbace, even if he did have to carry an accordion and wear broken glasses à la Jack Duckworth. Pinterest Composer Sally Beamish with poet Andrew Motion. Photograph: Paul Joyce To mark the centenary of the first world war the London Symphony Orchestra , under the impressive Gianandrea Noseda – last week named conduct or of the year 2015 by Musical America – gave the world premiere of Equal Voices , an elegiac cantata by Sally Beamish with texts by Andrew Motion .

His poem is about shell shock, entwined with words from the Song of Solomon. Beamish’s response is ambitious and moving. The choruses, terrifically delivered by the London Symphony Chorus , range from hymn-like to snarling. If the work continues the musical line stretching from Elgar’s Gerontius to Britten’s War Requiem, no one should complain. This co-commission with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra would have worked even better had it been performed alone, or in the first half when our energies were fresh. At 50 minutes it demands concentration and re-listening. Luckily you can hear it as many times as you like on iPlayer until 1 December.

Star ratings (out of 5) Idomeneo *** Mozart, Delivered With a Fresh Intensity - The New York Times The New York Times Music |Mozart, Delivered With a Fresh Intensity Search Mozart, Delivered With a Fresh Intensity By GEORGE LOOMIS Photo Marlis Petersen, left, and Sophie Karthäuser in a scene from "Idomeneo." Credit Werner Kmetitsch/Theater an der Wien VIENNA — “Idomeneo,” which Mozart wrote at age 24, is perhaps his most emotionally wrenching opera. The Theater an der Wien’s gripping new staging, a triumph musically and visually, convincingly brings home this point. The production by Damiano Michieletto, an increasingly visible presence on the international opera scene, finds meaning in almost every plot strand of the story of an impious vow by Idomeneo, king of Crete, to offer a human sacrifice to Neptune in return for his own safe return from the Trojan Wars. But Idomeneo’s own son, Idamante, must be the sacrificial victim.

Once the bargain is struck and the king is safely ashore, he is racked by guilt, recognizing in a chilling aria that he will be forever tormented by the victim’s ghost, here personified by a figure that smears him with blood. Although Idomeneo inspires sympathy, his trancelike behavior establishes him as unfit to rule. At the same time, Mr. Michieletto shows Idamante gradually gaining strength of character. In calling off the sacrifice, the gods are motivated not by Idomeneo’s wretchedness but by the power of love between Idamante and the Trojan princess Ilia, which is underscored by the heated yet tender physicality they display toward each other during their exquisite duet. Mr. Michieletto also makes clear the devastating effect Idomeneo’s inaction has on his subjects. Here Paolo Fantin’s rather perplexing set, involving a dirt floor scattered with rubber boots as if the Trojan War had taken place right there in Crete, is at its most effective. The populace gathers like homeless refugees while Alessandro Carletti’s lighting bathes them in a glow suggestive of campfires.

The sight adds intensity to the shattering sequence of musical numbers in which Idomeneo is finally pressured into revealing that the victim is Idamante — words uttered poignantly by the tenor Richard Croft in sotto voce cry of defeat — and preparations are made for the sacrifice. Advertisement Continue reading the main story Although Mr. Michieletto’s ideas about the opera are persuasive, he sometimes goes overboard in driving them home with silly supplemental action, such as having a character undress while singing an aria. At the end of Act 1, the chorus ironically hails Neptune for ensuring Idomeneo’s safe return, while Idomeneo agonizes over his vow to that very god. Mr. Croft’s acting vividly makes the contrast work, but he is also called upon to spill several bottles of wine as if he were not only distraught but also deranged. Please verify you're not a robot by clicking the box. Invalid email address. Please re-enter. You must select a newsletter to subscribe to. Sign Up Privacy Policy Mr. Michieletto takes other liberties. After relinquishing the crown to Idamante, Idomeneo collapses and dies, but by then he is a spent force anyway.

And Ilia is portrayed as pregnant, which makes for an unusual but oddly heartwarming epilogue when, during a selection of ballet music after the final chorus, she goes into labor and delivers a baby. Mr. Croft gives an outstanding portrayal of the ruler incapable of action while deploying his velvety tenor with regal stylishness. His delivery of the challenging “Fuor del mar” is technically stunning, yet the aria emerges as the recognizable product of a tormented soul. Gaëlle Arquez sings Idamante with a bright, lustrous mezzo-soprano and ably charts the prince’s coming of age. Sophie Karthäuser’s lyrical soprano proves ideal for Ilia; the clarity of her diction in the opening scene sets a standard the other singers match, although the intimacy of the theater is also a boon here. Also memorable is the soprano Marlis Petersen as Elettra, Ilia’s domineering rival for Ilia’s love.

Reflecting Elettra’s egotism, she is portrayed as a Madonna-like material girl, delivering her Act 2 aria after a shopping spree and trying on chic dresses (costumes by Carla Teti) as she sings, which adds a touch of comic relief. But there are no laughs for her intensely sung rage aria at the end, during which she takes off her blonde wig and writhes in the mud. The tenor Julien Behr is excellent in the role of Arbace, Idomeneo’s confidant, who gives a moving account of Crete’s calamitous state. Another hero of the evening is the conductor René Jacobs, whose accounts of 18th-century operas are always engrossing and who is in top form here, leading the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra in an especially cogent interpretation. Playing a period piano, Sebastian Wienand contributes stylish but not obtrusive continuo support. In a program essay Mr. Jacobs asserts that “Idomeneo” “contains perhaps the most inspired music” of Mozart’s “entire output for the stage.” You’re inclined to believe him. Idomeneo. Directed by Damiano Michieletto. Theater an der Wien.

Through Sunday. Idomeneo. Directed by Damiano Michieletto. Theater an der Wien. Through Sunday.

Question: Who composed the music for the opera Idomeneo?
Answer: MOZART